


Catch Me

by Blue_Capricorn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cockblocking, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Frustrated Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Masturbation, Pining Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Capricorn/pseuds/Blue_Capricorn
Summary: Sherlock likes to touch himself whilst John is in the same room -without John realising.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Catch Me

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt I found and really wanted to explore. I've no idea how many chapters this will bring us, I've just written this on the go, but I think it could become lenght-y. We'll see I suppose :]
> 
> Yay, here's to my fifth johnlock fic!! So the idea of this prompt is that Sherlock basically gets off on not being able to move too much or make any kind of noise, the idea just really turns him on that John might catch him at it.

Luxuriously stretched out on the sofa, Sherlock’s attention was solely fixed on John sat in his chair, hair wet from the shower and bathing robe gaping open as he turned a page of the newspaper, eyes focused on reading the newest of daily rubbish while remaining none the wiser about Sherlock’s antics. 

Perfect.

It was exactly what Sherlock’s been itching for these last days; the opportunity to unwind. Finding the right moment and the right circumstances as well as the right amount of time to do this during the day was more of a hassle than he cared to admit. His initial promise of not indulging in this too often was starting to wear off as Sherlock caught himself wanting to do it more and more frequently. The longer John remained in a room with him the more tempting it became to repeat this indulgence.

It seemed that mornings such as these were particularly getting to him. With John pattering around the flat, making toast and tea and humming contently to himself, Sherlock scarcely could help it but not _not_ to leave his room and be welcomed by a day filled with John. 

It must be Saturday, one of those special days where John did not have to go out to work and do his dull job. 

This was their day then; he thought as he stole another glance at John reading fully immersed the national politics section. 

Hasting to not waste any more time than necessary, Sherlock flexed his hand and methodically draped his untied dressing gown over his pyjama bottoms, careful to position himself in a way that would not show the obviousness of his action before plunging his hand deep inside the pocket of his dressing gown, feeling himself through the thin layer of his pyjamas.

Yes.

_This,_ he thought contently as he began tracing his fingers alongside his growing bulge, _this was good._

Nuzzling into the union jack pillow beneath his head, Sherlock watched John through half-lidded eyes as his skin started prickling into goosebumps from the mere fact that John was in the same room as Sherlock, while unbeknownst to him, Sherlock’s hand was gently fondling his cock. 

Stroking, teasing, squeezing in minimal touches, Sherlock always withdrew his hand the moment John even moved an inch. It wouldn’t do well for him to find out about this. 

For one, John would heavily disapprove of what Sherlock was doing, possibly forbid this behavior altogether. It’d likely be classified as one of those things that were ‘not on’ in a flatshare between two flatmates. And secondly, Sherlock withered the game would be over if John knew, and that was near too intolerable for him to consider. _He needed this._

Sherlock liked indulging his transport when John was present. In many ways it helped him, the benefits of it couldn’t remain unaddressed; it helped him think and fight boredom, it pleased and excited his transport, and it was a practical and excellent solution for finding release. Usually Sherlock struggled with those types of things, _detested them when they emerged_. But ever since he first tried this out, he had to, or better yet, _needed to_ , repeat this - _indulge in this_.

Because _this_ felt like unparalleled bliss and his penis couldn’t agree more as it started jutting inside his pyjama bottoms, tenting the thin fabric.

Focusing on controlling his pulse and breathing, Sherlock bent up one leg to better disguise his state while his fingers worked around the head of his cock, lightly brushing his glans through his pyjamas and rolling his foreskin while staring at John’s side profile and categorising the many ways he frowned while reading an article.

John’s frowns were always very pronounced and easy to read. 

And whatever John currently was reading, it seemed to rather aggravate him. _A sign to pause_. Sherlock silently sighed as he reluctantly stilled his hand and withdrew it as he waited for John to start ranting on and throwing glances in his direction to see whether he was listening or not.

Having brought his hands up to steeple them beneath his chin, Sherlock feigned disinterest as he counted the amount of seconds it took for John to go back to his newspaper. It’s been days since Sherlock last had the opportunity to indulge, he felt the heat of his anticipation simmering low in his belly as he took a deep breath to relax and calm his impatience. 

As predicted, the doctor clenched his jaw and shifted in his seat as he began speaking, “Bunch of pricks they are all. Have you heard that bit from the House of Lords? Tell Mycroft they can all go and fuck themselves. I hate that lot.”

Replying with a noncommittal sound, Sherlock fixed his eyes down his tented pyjamas, suddenly alarmed to see that the flushed glans of his penis were poking out of the buttoned fly gap. Feeling John’s gaze on him, Sherlock quickly bent his leg further up to hide the possibility of John catching sight of it. Wearing navy blue silk bottoms, the bright spot of pink that poked out could easily be seen from yards away, Sherlock stared down at it.

“…know it should be forbidden. But--, er, you alright, Sherlock?”

“Me? Fine, yes. Fine.” Hastily, Sherlock pulled at his dressing gown that had slipped down his thighs and draped it over his groin, covering himself.

“You sure? You look rather flushed, now that I notice it.” _No, you didn’t notice it, John._

“I’m fine, John,” Sherlock bit out, not liking the sight of John tossing the newspaper aside and standing up. “Where-- Where are you going?”

“Dressed, I’ve got a date,” John said, sliding a hand through his hair, looking hesitant. “Well, it’s a lunch date. She said she can’t do evenings because she has to get up rather early. Wish me luck?”

Feeling all too sour, Sherlock sneered. Indulgence forgotten, he turned to his side, away from John.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” John muttered as he left the room to instead go up and get dressed for a date that Sherlock all but ignored was happening today.

If there was one thing Sherlock detested more than John leaving, it was getting cockblocked because John was leaving - _for a date_.

Looking over his shoulder to check for any sign of John and (obviously) seeing none, Sherlock sunk back into the couch, irritated that today apparently was not _their_ day after all. He had thought today was one of those days of just them together. Them and no one else.

Sherlock still kept on wishing. _This pointless sentiment_.

And yet he couldn’t suppress it.

Because Sherlock was simply unable to suppress John Watson.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to know what you guys think of this! I for one think there's some good potential to explore here :]


End file.
